Endings
by beautifulwordshenanigans
Summary: So this is how it ends.
1. The End?

**A/N So this is a little story that came to me and I wrote it in one night. Originally, it was just a one shot, but now I might be adding 2 more chapters. I have an idea that I may or may not use. It all depends on you guys' reviews. Shall I leave it as it is or maybe add some more and perhaps a smidge of a happy ending? Just an idea…**

Endings

Life is short.

If someone ever said that to me, I'd probably break their nose. Not because life is the longest damn thing there is, but because a part of me agrees, and in my case, it's too late. The life I want is gone, and I can't change that. Nothing will bring it back and as I look back on it, I realize that life _is_ short, well, at least the actual living part. I never really got around to a lot of that. But I guess that wasn't really ever up to me.

I had a destiny; not a choice. I had responsibilities; not a life. I had uncertainty, and danger, and pain. So much pain.

But there was happiness too. There was Willow and Xander, who didn't always understand but were there. There was fun, and smiles, and movie nights. There was Dawn, who I couldn't have gotten through our mother's death without. There was Giles, who was the father mine never was. There was Spike, who became as much a part of my life as Xander and Willow. There was even Cordelia, Faith, and Oz.

And then there was him. I like to think I did most of my living with him. He made me feel like a girl. He had a way of looking at me as if I was the only person in the world. He would just hold me and everything else would fade away, and the world would make sense again, at least for a moment.

We had a long journey, the two of us. Ha, we had a way of taking the long way around. The most painful and the hardest path was always the one we chose. Maybe it was because we were afraid, or maybe we were just stupid. Whatever the reason, we danced around our feelings for years, using a variety of excuses, the most ridiculous of them being cookies, or lack thereof.

I wish I hadn't been so stubborn. I wish there was a way to go back, and make this right. But there isn't. We made our choices.

He chose to walk away, and I chose to let him.

I chose to try to move on, and he chose to let me.

I chose to ask him for forever, and he chose to not answer.

I chose to kiss him, and he chose to kiss me back.

I chose to ask him to leave, and he chose to listen.

But we didn't choose to fall in love. That was never supposed to happen. A vampire and the vampire slayer? No, it just wasn't right.

And yet why had all those moments in his arms feel like the only times when things _were _right?

He always knew what I needed, and he never once hesitated to come to my aid, even if I didn't want it, or knew he was there. Maybe that's why it hurts so much now. He was in trouble; he had needed my help, and I got here too late. I failed him. If there was one thing that he had never done, it was to fail me. He always came through; he always took the brunt of whatever it was on himself.

Yeah, he was always the one to carry the guilt, the pain.

Always.

Always.

Always.

The word used to have so much meaning for me. The word was ours. We were always. We were forever.

Even after he ended it, it was never really over. It couldn't be, not with us. After all, what would the point of soul mates be then?

Soul mates. There was a time when I would have scoffed at the term, but I know better now. A soul mate is not an idea used in cheesy romance novels. Call it whatever you like, but when it comes down to it, a soul mate is 'the one'. That one person you didn't look for, you never saw coming, you wouldn't expect in a thousand years, but you would know them in an instance and once you did, there was no going back. You belong to him and him to you. And nothing can change that. No heartbreak, no harsh words, no "moving on" will end what you have.

You may try to fool yourself; I know I did. It never works. I even found myself believing that it had, that I could be with another man, but there's always that moment that drags me back. And then I realize that what I have with this other man is a cheap knock off, filler for the real thing.

Of course, he and I never had it easy. All the odds were stacked against us; no one really believed we would ever make it work. And we let them convince us that they were right. That we were not meant to be, and we were kidding ourselves into believing that we stood a chance. We let ourselves be torn apart, and we blamed it on fate.

But fate wasn't the problem, though sometimes, it did have a cruel sense of humor. We were so damn stubborn, so set in our idea that we didn't work, that we were better apart, that we never realized that we were slowly dying inside. Our souls cried out for the other, but we shut them down, ignoring what was right in front of us.

So we set about living our lives, but not together. We'd see each other occasionally, and for a moment I'd be taken off guard and I would slip and we'd share a forbidden kiss.

And break each other's hearts one more time.

The pain was unavoidable it would seem. I couldn't escape it, no matter how hard I tried it was always there and now even he was no longer around to make it go away.

It took me awhile, but I finally began looking into the future again and I realized that my view had never changed. He was still all I saw.

Soul mates, remember?

And then when I heard about his Shanshu, for the first time since I was 16, I saw a future for us. I _let _myself see a future for us. A future without pain, and forbidden love. Without curses and loopholes. Just love. The love we had been denying ourselves for so long. It was probably foolish of me to hope like I did, but I had been denied it for so long that I welcomed it in, no matter the form.

So even when I heard about Wolfram and Hart, I knew there was more to it, because I knew him. I didn't listen to them; I didn't let them tell me what to believe. Not this time.

I'm a big girl. So why did I feel so small now?

The City of Angels looms above me, but I can't move. I find that a little funny because it was only moments before that I had been running as if my life had depended on it. Which in a way, it had.

But I wasn't fast enough, I was too late.

I arrived just in time to see the end. To have my world crash down around me. I arrived in time to see the man I loved, the _only_ man I've ever loved die before my eyes.

I won't say that there was nothing I could have done, because there was. I could have come earlier, I could have been there. I could have told him I loved him one more time. And maybe it wouldn't have made a difference, I'll never know, but at least if I had been there, I could have gone out with him. Died with his name on my lips. Our hearts joined together. Soul mates.

But I wasn't. And I watched him crumble to dust. My eyes never left his, and I could only hope that he could see the love there, the love that never went away. I hope he knew that I was his. Always. I hope he knew that I was sorry. That I was cookies. That I wanted a second chance with him. That he died right when we could have had our forever.

Maybe I was kidding myself. Maybe he never saw any of that. Maybe he died thinking that I didn't care. But I don't believe that. I _won't _believe that.

After all, he knows -knew- me better than anyone else ever did and ever will.

I reach him too late.

Too late.

Too late.

Too late.

A pile of ashes lies at my feet. All that is left of him. It's really so cruel that it should end this way.

No, cruel is too light a word, for now I can't breathe, can't see, can't move. A coldness seeps into my bones, my very being. It's a coldness that I know no matter how many years pass, will never completely fade.

And it starts to rain, like heavenly tears mixing with my own. I can't stop the flow and I don't try. This is how it ends. Not with two lonely warriors finally reuniting, but with one broken woman who has to carry on.

I have friends, and family, and a thousand slayers to lead. I realize now that my dreams of a life with him were foolish. I would never get my happy ending. I would live the rest of my life in the shadow of what could have been. It'll eat at me, drive me away from other men, but I won't care. My dreams will be my comfort, because he'll be there. He'll hold me and make the pain go away. At least until I awoke and had to face another day. Alone.

And maybe one day, we'll meet again in a better place. But as I stare down at all that's left of my love, it's impossible to see. It's impossible to think that this hell will ever lessen, that I'll smile again and laugh. I can't see it. I can't see anything, but the ashes of my Angel.

And finally, the pain overwhelms me and I collapse as the sobs shake my body. I scream. I cry. I tear my hair. I curse fate, destiny and everything else, but most of all I curse myself. I curse him.

We had love, we had each other, we had forever.

And we let it slip away.

Always was ours, but now it's too late.

In the silence, a soul screams, but its mate is gone, its love has died. What was supposed to last forever is no more, and nothing, _nothing_ can stop the pain.

**More? Or not. Feedback please! *grins like five year old on Christmas***


	2. Not Death, But Love

**A/N Hello, all. This chapter took a bit longer than I thought it would. I haven't written anything quite like this before, so I'm taking a little more time on it. And hey, if it's any good, then I guess it paid off. Anyways, without further ado, read and review. Ha, that rhymes. Kinda.**

Not Death, But Love

He can't feel anything.

That's the first thing he notices. He doesn't feel the wounds he knew covered his beaten body, or feel the ground tremble with the force of the demon army. The cold rain doesn't pelt his skin.

Angel doesn't feel anything at all.

He doesn't understand. He felt the stake pierce his heart, the flare of agony and the rush of death. If he could have taken a last breath, he would've of.

But before the darkness could claim him, he saw her. His slayer. She was here. She was really here. Of all the ways he could've gone out, he had hoped she would be the last thing his eyes would see. His eyes had locked with hers even as his dimmed. She had always worn her heart in her eyes, and in that moment, he read it easily. She loved him, had always loved him. Always.

Angel died with a smile on his lips. The darkness had closed around him until even her golden hair and bright eyes were extinguished.

And now, nothing. He wasn't floating, he wasn't standing. He wasn't….doing anything. He just was.

And that scared him, more than anything ever had. He had spent so long fighting, striving to make amends or had some other purpose. Now he was just here. No purpose, no place. Just existence. The nothingness stretched on and on without stop. Was this death? Was this his punishment? To lay in waste, with no end?

_Not punishment, Warrior, but redemption._

The world has faded into shades of grey, washed out, surreal. The city stares down at me, the fighting has died down and the bodies pile around me, but I can't find it in myself to care.

I'm numb, and so very cold, but I can't warm up.

"_You're shaking like a leaf."_

No. I shake my head violently, denying the flashback, the memory. I still haven't found the strength to stand again. I kneel in the cold, in the rain, unable to move.

"Pet? Is that you?" Spike is here; he's alive. When I first got here, during my run to find Angel, I had seen him, fighting for his life. I had no idea how he was there; he died in Sunnydale. But at that time, with my mind focused solely on Angel, I couldn't spare him more than a thought, which was mostly centered on how I would kill him again for not telling me he was alive.

I don't lift my tear soaked eyes from the ground. "Why are you here? You lived, why didn't he?" I sound broken even to my own ears.

I can hear the catch in his voice as he must now see the ashes that lie in front of me. "Bloody hell." He whispers. "That's Angel, isn't it?"

I start to shake. "I wasn't fast enough. I couldn't reach him in time. I tried, Spike, but he just…" I tried again. "He was just gone. How can he be gone?"

Even when we were apart, living separate lives in different places, I always knew he was there. That if things ever got really dark, there was still him I could turn to. But now…. He's no longer in this world, and this time, I don't think he's coming back.

Spike's coat drapes around my shoulders, but I barely notice, even when he lifts me to my feet. He tries to pull me away, out of the rain, but I clutch at him. "No, no. I can't leave him. Not again."

Spike shushes me, tells me he'll come back to get the ashes.

Ashes.

Not Angel. Because Angel is gone. Only ashes.

But I let myself be led away. I know I should be stronger than this, that I should take a deep breath and survey the damage left by the battle and call in back up, be the good Slayer, but I can't.

Right now, I can't be strong.

"Here we are, love." Spike's quiet voice is the only thing that cuts through the nothingness filling my head. He leads me into a nice flat. I force myself to look around, let my eyes take it in, and then it hits me.

This is where he lived. Angel's home.

It's nice.

A hysterical giggle escapes me as I realize what I just thought.

That one trivial thought forces some reality onto me, and I stop leaning on Spike. I walk to the couch, running my hands slowly over it before I sit. All over the place, I see signs of Angel. I still know his quirks, his habits. The particular way he stacks his books, and the meticulously organized shelves, even a shirt that peeks out from a dresser.

Spike comes and sits next to me. For the first time, I really see him. He looks like hell; wounds of all sizes cover his body, but some are already beginning to close. He holds something in his hands, a medium sized ornate box. He struggles with himself for a moment and then with a resigned look and a muttered British obscenity, he roughly hands it to me.

"What is it?" My grasp on reality is slowly returning, and I already feel more tears burning in the back of my throat, but I push them back.

Like a good Slayer.

Spike drags a hand through his bleach blonde hair, and refuses to look me in the eye. "Angel knew there was a good chance he wasn't going to make it through this one. He asked me to give this to you, if he didn't make it." Spike still sounded awed that his grandsire would ask him something like that, let alone expect him to actually follow through. "Don't know why he bloody well thought I would make it if he didn't." I see his hands tremble briefly, and I can't help but think that Spike is grieving for Angel, in his own way.

The smooth wood suddenly feels hot. I drop it with a muffled thump in my lap, afraid to touch it, afraid of what I will find inside.

"You should open it, love." Without another word, Spike disappears out into the rain, but I know he will be back.

Steeling myself, I reach out for the box, but almost drop it again as I read the single word inscribed and inlaid with gold on the top. _Always._

Closing my eyes against the more and more persistent tears, I lift the lid. Reaching inside, my fingers meet something soft. I pull out one of my old sweaters; I must have left it at the mansion one time. I choke a little when I find the back of an old notebook in there as well, proclaiming Buffy and Angel Forever for the whole world to see. Then there were pictures; pictures of us, but most of them just of me. A couple of stray tears escape as I stare back in time, a time that was happy.

With the pictures, was a letter. This was the newest thing added, I could tell, but he had slipped it in with the pictures of us, together.

With shaking fingers, I peel open the envelope.

_**Buffy,**_

_**I'm not going to say, if you're reading this I'm already dead, because besides being terribly cliché, I want to believe that it won't come to that. I hope that you'll never have to read this, but I've lived a long time, and I'd be stupid to deny that there isn't a great possibility that I won't make it through this battle. It's bad, an apocalypse worthy of Sunnydale, probably worse. I've faced down death many times before, but something about this one seems final.**_

_**I told my team to live today like it was their last, and I plan to do the same, but I had to do this first. Because if it was in my power, I would spend today with you. I would give anything to see you one more time. I love you. I never stopped, you see. And I couldn't go into this battle without telling you one more time. I know how much things have changed, how we've changed, but not this. I've done a lot of things in my life that I regret, but loving you was never one of them. I would do it over and over again, even if I knew how it would end. Always, right?**_

Now, the tears freely poured down my cheeks again as I press a hand to my mouth. I continue to read even as my eyes blur over. He poured his heart out in this one letter. I read about Darla, his son, Cordelia, everything. I read about the day that never was, his pain mixed with bittersweet memories are so evident in his words that I cry even more over how much he gave up for me. But most of all, I read how he missed me everyday, how he still loved me, despite everything. Reading this now, so soon after I watched him die, tore me apart. It felt like there was a gaping chasm where my chest, my heart should have been.

Then I reach the end of the letter.

_**So if you're reading this(If Spike didn't give this to you, I swear I'll find a way to kill him), and I really am dead, don't cry too much. I never could stand it when you cried, even though I seemed to be the cause of those tears most of the time. Do you remember what I gave you on your 18**__**th**__** birthday? Every one of those sonnets reminded me of us, in some way or another. This one is no exception. I love you, forever. Not even death can change that. **_

_**I thought once how Theocritus had sung**_

_**Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,**_

_**Who each one in a gracious hand appears**_

_**To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:**_

_**And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,**_

_**I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,**_

_**The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,**_

_**Those of my own life, who by turns had flung**_

_**A shadow across me. Straightway I was 'ware,**_

_**So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move**_

_**Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;**_

_**And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,-**_

_**"Guess now who holds thee!"-"Death," I said, But, there,**_

_**The silver answer rang, "Not Death, but Love."**_

My hands are trembling so hard now, that the letter falls from my hands. I stand quickly and walk to the window, trying to calm my breathing. But I can't, I can't. The shirt that caught my eye when I first walked in is with in reach; it's a black sweater and so typical Angel that I almost laugh. Numbly, I reach for it, and slip it over my own torn, wet shirt, wrapping myself up in its warmth. I stand for a moment, and allow myself to feel his embrace, one last time.

I return to my earlier seat, my legs feel like lead and all I want to do is collapse, and sleep. Maybe in sleep, I'll find some peace. I pick up the letter and the envelope; there's something else in there. My fingers slide inside and grasp something hard and small.

Oh God.

Oh God.

I pull out the old ring, not believing what I'm seeing. Closing my eyes, I press the cold silver to my lips, and sink back into the couch, murmuring his name over and over again as every memory of us fills my mind.

_Angel. _

_Angel._

_Angel. _

He hears his name from within the darkness. He tries to turn towards its source, but it's impossible to pin point. It echoes around him, never ending in the silence. And then it begins; a slideshow of images, flashing all around him. He recognizes each one.

It's Liam's story, Angelus's story, _his _story.

Angel flinches away from it; he doesn't want to see. He doesn't want to see his drunken escapades as a youth, he doesn't want to see himself murder over and over again with a smile on his face, and laughter in his heart.

But he does. He can't escape.

He struggles against invisible bonds, and cries out as each one of his most vile, cruel, and repulsive acts play before his eyes once again, taking each one as a physical blow.

_Peace, Warrior, you will find peace._

Two lone lovers, lost soul mates feel the pain, relive the memories, but find no comfort; for they are apart, separated, incomplete.

They say that after all else falls, love still stands.

So is it true then? Is it really not death, but love?

**A/N You know what to do. I just like reminding you.**


	3. Salvation

Salvation

Angel hung there, in the motionless, empty darkness. His body screamed at him in pain, but the lacerations, the bruises, and the gouges on his physical body was nothing compared to the damage done to his soul.

The bright, bright light that is his human soul was flickering, dimming, so dim. Every atrocity Angel had committed over the many, many years of his long life had been forced upon it. And, well, it was fragile, not unlike its owner. There was only so much such a pure, good thing can handle before the darkness consumes it. And there was enough darkness in Angel's past to destroy several souls, but his in particular is stronger than most. But even the most pure of heart, the bravest, the noblest, and self-giving person can't hold the darkness at bay forever. Especially if he's fighting the darkness with no light on his side.

He can't see that light, but it's there. It's always there. That light sometimes takes different forms, appears in different people, but it never leaves, not completely. You only have to look for it.

Then there are the broody, guilt-ridden types who need a little push in the right direction. They're not very good at taking a subtle hint, and they certainly never see that light on their own right away. But even they are not alone; there is always someone to help.

The stillness is broken by a sharp movement next to Angel, and with an undignified "oof!" a rather scrawny man, with average features and messy dark hair makes an abrupt appearance, swearing in that Irish lilt of his.

The tortured eyes of the former vampire with a soul widen in shock and, almost, almost relief, before they cloud over again with anguish. "Doyle." His voice is dead. "Are you here to remind me how I let you die? Or perhaps they just want me to remember how I failed to save you, save anyone really."

'Whoa, whoa, I sense the start of some seriously broody mad man rambling here." His voice was like an echo from the past. A time long gone, but never forgotten. "And I got a part here to play, so we'll save that for later, aye?" Doyle looked the same as ever, acted the same too. His eyebrows scrunched together as he regarded his old boss "You look like hell, mate. Worse than the first time I saw you." And without another pause, the quirky Irishman cleared his throat and in a much practiced voice began,

"Once upon a time, there was a vampire. And he was the meanest vampire in all the land. I mean, other vampires were afraid of him he was such a... bastard. Then, one day, he's cursed by gypsies. They restore his human soul. And, all of a sudden, he's mad with guilt. You know, "What have I done! Oh!" He's freaked." He pauses here, smiling. "Yeah, well, it's a fairly dull tale. It needs a little sex is my feelin'. So, sure enough, enter the girl; pretty little blonde thing, Vampire Slayer by trade. And our vampire falls madly in love with her. But eventually, the two of them, well, they-they get fleshy with one another. And the moment he- Well, Iguess the technical term is "perfect happiness". But when our boy gets there, he goes bad again, he kills again. It's ugly. So, when he gets his soul back for the second time, he figures, hey, he can't be anywhere near Miss Puppy Thighs without endangering them both. So, what does he do? He takes off, goes to L.A. to fight evil and atone for his crimes. He's a shadow. A faceless champion of the human race."

The exact words that Doyle said to him on the day of their first meeting are achoed back to him.

"But it doesn't end there, does it?" Doyle's sharp blue eyes bore into Angel's and the latter feels a spark of life, the first summoned to combat the growing darkness inside him, around him. "No, our favorite vampire gets a dashingly handsome Irishman and a gorgeous girl as his very own sidekicks, and together the three fight the evil of LA. But tragedy strikes our heroes, and one of their own is taken from 'em. That being me. But the other two, they go on, fighting evil, saving lives. They make new friends, face their own demons, and oh yeah, take down a lawless law firm, that caters to worst of the worst. But yet, even after all he's done, this stubborn vampire still doesn't believe he deserves anything more than eternal torment in atonement for his past sins."

Doyle takes a deep breath, before addressing Angel directly now. "Well, I'm here to fix that. You've seen the 1001 Reasons Why Angelus Was A Sick Murdering Lunatic, but we both know, well, "Doyle regards Angel's beaten and defeated form, "you _used _to know, that wasn't all there was to you. And now I'm going to remind you. And like any good tale, it starts with a girl."

Images appear in empty space, as they had before, but they showed this time was quite different. Angel watched in silence, no longer having to flinch away, no physical pain accompanies these visions of the past. The first one is of a 15 year old girl, with long blonde hair and a pretty smile. A warmth that wasn't there before, sparks in Angel's chest, somewhere near his unbeating heart. More and more images of one Buffy Summers follow. And he watches it all, but for the first time, he sees it as he would through her eyes. He sees how he looks to her, both when they first met to when she told him she loved him. He sees the utter love and complete trust, despite her fear when she gives herself completely to him. Then he begins to see things he'd never seen before. He sees her pain and tears over Angelus, but he also feels her longing, how she still loved him, even then. She didn't see a killer, she saw her love.

And Angel could feel it, how much he meant to her. He never thought he could be considered as something precious, something loved and wanted. He was a demon atoning for his sins.

But that's not what she saw. She saw the man she loved, the boyfriend she would protect, the lover she had to kill.

He no longer feels dead, cold. The warmth is spreading; light combats the dark.

He watches as she sobs after Acathla swallowed him, watches as she leaves her home, and watches as she returns. He sees her joy over his return mixed with disbelief and guilt, so much guilt. He must watch himself walk away from her, and all the tears she cried the following summer.

It's when he sees her try to move on, that he realizes that he has begun to care again, that he feels more than just endless guilt, and pain. He doesn't understand when the next image is of her in bed with that commando, well, he understands that he wants to rip that man's throat out, but besides that. Then he sees it. Even with another man's arm around her, she's murmuring _his _name.

It's another good thing when he feels smug.

Their last two kisses flicker before his eyes, but he feels what she felt. Her love, her desire, her immense gratefulness that he was there, one last time. The light inside him is growing, gaining strength, the soul feels that is loved, in spite of everything, and it fights back.

All fades to black again. But is it his imagination (or maybe hallucination) or has it brightened a little. He can see Doyle clearer now, and the Irish half demon is grinning. "See? That wasn't too bad. But you see, Angel man, that was only the difference you made on _one_ person's life. There's something else you're ready to see now."

"Remember all those lives you saved?" The Irishman continued. "Yeah, well, those people went on to live their lives because of _you_. You helped them live again. I think you should see that before you decide that you're nothing more than a monster."

Doyle didn't give Angel a chance to reply before he snapped his fingers and every person Angel had ever saved was paraded before his eyes. But that was not all he saw. He saw their families, there new loves, jobs, and the people they had become. They got a new lease on life and every one of them had him to thank for that. And they knew it too. They never forgot the dark, mysterious man who gave them a second chance.

Now Angel knew for certain that the darkness that he was in was slowly lightening. His soul had begun to pulse again with a strong, confident light, and the darkness was being beaten back, further and further.

For the first time in well, ever, Angel was beginning to realize what good he had done. So many people had told him that, but now he was actually starting to believe it. For years, he had believed that he could never, ever make up for what Angelus had done, but now Doyle was showing him, really _showing_ him that he _had_ made a difference.

Doyle's satisfied smirk when Angel turned his wonder filled eyes towards him told him that this was exactly what Doyla had been sent here to do. A full, genuine smile lit up the half demon's face. "Angel man, you've made your amends. And now you're finally ready for your reward. Now, I don't need to tell you not to screw it up again, do I? Because there's a broken woman out there would needs you, and this time, there will be no noble, dumbass leaving her, got it?" Doyle's eyes glinted as Angel took in what he had just said.

"But I'm dead. For real. I can't…" He trailed off as Doyle smiled knowingly at him. "The prophecy." Angel's heart sank. "Doyle, I signed that away. It's not mine anymore."

Doyle snorted. "Prophecy-shmophecy. The Powers That Be are the head honchos and they've decided to reward their Champion. Yes, I guess this could be the fulfillment of the Shanshu prophecy, but Angel, the fact that you signed that away, doesn't matter. Of _course_, you'd sign it away." He muttered to himself before finishing, "The Powers will reward you how they choose, and they're giving you your life back. You're getting a pulse, man."

Angel's eyes filled with wonderment, as the burning light that is his soul burned ever brighter, filling the darkness with a blinding light.

Doyle's voice was growing fainter. "You deserve this, Angel. Don't forget your girl. She's waiting."

"Thank you." Was Angel could whisper, but he knew Doyle heard.

His old friend smiled. "Enjoy your new life. And don't worry 'bout me. 'Delia's waiting."

With a final burst of light, Doyle was gone, and Angel was….breathing.

**A/N This one is a little shorter than the last, but I love it. **_**We**_** know Angel deserved his redemption, but he didn't think he did. So he needed a little help in getting there. And because I love a certain Irishman, Doyle was the man for the job. And I think he did it rather well. First Angel needed to accept that he was worthy of love, that he could be loved even when he thought of himself as a monster. Then, he would be ready to accept and see the difference he had made and all the lives he saved. It made sense to me. Now we have a human Angel. Oh the places this story could go…. As always, leave me a review and you make my day :D**


	4. The Beginning

**A/N I am so sorry this took so long. My muse ran away. And by ran away I mean took off Fiji. I recently convinced her to come back to Arizona (aka cactusland) and now I present you with the final chapter of 'Endings'**

The Beginning

I fall asleep wrapped up in Angel's shirt, my Claddagh ring clutched tightly in my hand, pressed to my heart. I am utterly spent, listless, slipping willingly into dreams. In my dreams, the constant, pounding pain is somewhat lessened, I can breathe more easily. The silence, the emptiness is not so deafening here.

A loud banging stirs me from my slumber, and I groggily blink my eyes, Slayer instinct immediately sending me into red alert. I relax a moment later when Spike stumbles inside, smelling strongly of alcohol and smoke.

"Bloody chaos out there, Slayer." He informs me, shaking his blonde head, spraying water in all directions.

I sit up, wipe my eyes, but keep a firm hold on Angels' shirt; I'm not ready to give up it's feeling of security yet. I take a deep breath, draw on reserves of emotional strength I didn't know I had. I stand and run my hands through my blonde hair, trying to smooth it. I know I look like a wreck, but it doesn't matter. Not now.

That's when I notice Spike's hands are empty.

No ashes.

No Angel.

I freeze, this throwing me off guard.

"Spike?" I ask. "Where are-" I swallow painfully "the ashes."

The blonde vampire looks at me, genuine sorrow in his eyes. "I'm sorry, love. They were gone by the time I got back."

"No. No, they can't be." I don't know why this hurts so much, but it does. I lost all I had left of Angel. I stare unbelievingly, staring but not seeing.

"Pet?" Spike is trying to get my attention, but I ignore him, instead I head to the door. In a voice that is not my own, I tell Spike to call the others. To tell them I'm alive. _Ha, if you call his living._ And to send back up. The vampire nods mutely and walks out into the rain.

I raise my head up to the sky; letting the cool drops bathe my face, clear away my tears. Despite the pain thudding through every vein in my body, I feel a little refreshed. I look around me, taking in the carnage, the damage. My eyes assess everything. Like a good Slayer.

Because that is what I have become. I am a good Slayer right now. I have locked away my feelings. It hurts less that way. The excruciating pain becomes just bearable. I can move, and I can function.

And that is all that matters right now.

I walk through Angel's city. Water soaks into my boots, and makes my skin slick, but I don't notice. I am too engrossed with the city that holds Angel's memory. He did so much for these people here. And most of them probably didn't even know his name.

In a way, it reminds me of myself. Always saving everyone, but ourselves. We should've been able to do that for each other. For awhile we had. I close my eyes, remembering one of the happiest times of my life.

It was a stupid idea. The pain that hits me now is so intense, so poignant, so filled with regret that I almost collapse. But I can't; not yet.

I continue my walk, occasionally stopping and killing the stray demon, but most of them seem to be gone. I don't know what happened, and at the moment I don't care. I can picture Giles chastising me in my head, and for a moment, it brings a smile to my face. But the smile quickly vanishes as I spot two familiar people running towards me.

"Buffy!" Shrieks Willow, throwing her arms around me. I hug her back methodically, but inside I'm cringing at the touch. I don't want to be held yet, comforted or touched. Xander pants up next to her, sending me a lopsided grin.

Neither of them knows about Angel.

They must have set off after me at once. I try to bring up feelings of warmth for my loyal friends, but I feel nothing. Nothing but an ache in my heart. They are here and he is not.

"Hey, Buff, why the long face?" Xander asks, looking around at the damage. "Damn, I thought Dead Boy was taking _care_ of this city."

My throat closes at the casual way he mentions Angel, and I find myself struggling to speak. However, Willow catches on and her smile drops. "Buffy? Where's Angel?"

I stare blankly at her, my eyes glazing over. It's a simple question, a simple answer.

What do I say?

Angel is—

Angel is—

If I say it, then it really is true. My words seem so final, so cold. They feel like the end.

Willow waits; she needs to hear me say it too. I might have imagined it, but tears seems to glisten in her eyes. In the loudest voice I can manage, I say "Angel's dead."

And my heart shatters one more time.

Willow gasps and tears trickle from her eyes. I don't know if they're for Angel or for me.

Xander, on the other hand, just looks confused. He glances beyond my shoulder, and then looks back at me. He glances behind me again, and then looks at me.

"Is this some kind of joke?" He asks with a tone of disbelief.

"Joke?" I whisper. I can hear the venom in my voice. "_A joke!"_ I scream suddenly, causing both Xander and Willow to jump. "Why yes, Xander, it's a _joke_. Because it's just so funny that Angel just died in front of my eyes, that I couldn't save him. _Again_." I', growing hysterical, grief and anger blinding me, making me want to strike out and hit them both. Maybe then they would understand how I feel. How the pain is ripping me apart.

Xander takes a step back, clearly frightened. "But Buffy, Angel's behind you."

I lunge for my friend; all I can think is that he thinks this is all a game. He hates Angel, always had. But why was he doing this to me?

Willow grabs me desperately, trying to hold me back. "Buffy, Buffy. He's right. Turn around." She says softly.

I turn.

There he is. My Angel. Standing a mere 20 yards from me. My heart beats wildly. This is not happening. I saw him die. I watched him turn to ash.

Ashes.

Spike never found the ashes.

I take a step towards Angel. His back is towards me, but almost as if he senses me, he turns.

Our eyes lock.

And suddenly, I know. It's him. Those deep brown eyes drink into mine, and I know.

And I run. I run like I've never run before. My hair streams out behind me, glinting in the sun.

The sun?

I skid to a stop a few feet from Angel. "The sun." is all I manage to say.

He smiles. "Not a vampire."

I never thought I'd see him again, I thought I'd lost him forever, but now he's standing in front of me. And suddenly, I freeze. All I can do is stare at him. All at once, I don't know what to do. Part of me is still telling me that this isn't real.

"Buffy?" He says my name, and I close my eyes. He always seemed to caress my name. Making it sound beautiful when it wasn't. "It's me. I can barely believe it myself, but it is. I-I got my reward." He falls silent and I hesitantly walk forward. I place a hand on his chest.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The beating of Angel's heart drums my hand. "That's a good sound." I whisper.

And then I'm in his arms. I throw myself forward and hold onto him as tightly as I can. It's when I feel him, really feel him, that I realize that this is real. And I begin to sob, harsh sobs that shake my body; Angel holds me tighter, face buried in my hair and feel his tears slide down my neck.

"I thought I'd lost you." I murmur.

"You'll never lose me. Not again." And everything in my world falls back into place. I will live the rest of my life with Angel at my side, the way it always should have been.

We break apart to stare into each other's eyes. Love shines in his brown ones; eyes that are know free from guilt and pain. We have so much to talk about, so much that must be explained. Tears will be shed, voices raised and fights will ensue, but not right now.

I smile into his eyes, a full, bright smile that I thought I would never reveal again. "I'm cookies."

He grins, a real full grin that warms me down to my soaked toes. Without replying, he lowers his lips to mine.

Two lovers reunite against all odds, against death itself. No one can say they don't deserve it, for no one has sacrificed like they have. It is time for their happy ending. For their always, for not death but love, for salvation and for a new beginning. Because this is not the end of their story. Oh no, this is just the beginning.

**A/N And that, is the end. I hope you all liked it, and I would appreciate any and all comments. But wait, there's more. Well, there's more if you guys would like more. I'm thinking bout doing an epilogue, but what do you guys think? Should I leave it? Or add a bit more? Let me know! :D**


	5. Epilogue

**A/N: Here it is, the epilogue of Endings. I just want to say thank you for everyone who has read, favorited or reviewed this story. All of you are made of awesomeness. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the support, especially when I wasn't really sure if this story would even take. So again, thank you, and happy reading :D**

Epilogue

"Mommy! Mommy! Guess what?" The bed vibrates with all 30 pounds of bouncing 5 year old and I groggily open my eyes.

"It's 4 o'clock in the morning, Kathy." I say, voice thick with sleep. My daughter is a stubbornly early riser, but this was a new record even for her.

"But it's _snowing_!" She squeals with delight, blonde hair bouncing and brown eyes alight. Nothing could curb her excitement. After suffering a sad snowless Christmas, Kathy had wanted nothing more than to at least see a couple of inches before snow crept up on us.

I, on the other hand, was perfectly content with no snow. No snow meant that I could still feel my fingers after a long training session with the girls. I was running the Slayer academy out here in Colorado. We had a lovely spot that had plenty of land, but was also not terribly far from a decent sized town, where Angel and I had decided to live.

Angel.

It seems like a lifetime ago since those dreadful hours that I had truly believed he had been dead. In reality, it had just been over 7 years. 7 years and it still haunts me, mostly because now, looking back, I don't know what I would have done without him.

Through everything, he's been my rock, my anchor. The one thing I would always come home to. Sure, we had our moments, like all couples do, but we'd seen too much, been through too much to ever let this get away again.

Always.

Forever.

Those words regained their meanings.

Together Angel and I explored every aspect of being human. His gift, his reward, was well received. I had my Angel back, fangless, but never less dangerous.

But we didn't have to fight all the time, no. I believed we had earned our rest, and before long, we got it.

Angel asked me to marry him. Honestly, I can't believe he was actually worried I would refuse. Of course, I said yes.

And so the ex-vampire and his Slayer got married. In all my musings about my future, I would never, in a million years, have seen this. I've made so many mistakes, taken lives, and almost lost myself along the way, but somehow, by some miracle, I managed to pull back, find who I really was, and get back on track. A lot of that had to do with Angel.

And now, as I stare at our beautiful daughter, with her daddy's beautiful, deep brown, I realize that I actually really do want to get up and see the snow at 4 o'clock in the morning on this blustery January day.

"Come on, cupcake. Let's go see that snow." I say, swinging my daughter up into my arms.

She beams at me, and presses her warm cheek against my shoulder, "What about Daddy?" She whispers.

I turn and watch the sleeping form of my husband. I would never fully get used to how peaceful he looked now, so at rest. I smile softly and walk out of the room. "We'll let Daddy sleep." I tell Kathy, carrying her to the front door.

I walk outside, curling my toes against the cold. But even the bitter Colorado air is forgotten as I watch my daughter's face, full of amazement and glee, turn up towards the snow. It falls around us, so much prettier than rain, resting lightly on our heads and noses.

Kathy giggles with delight and I hold her tighter against me. Then a pair of warm arms slide around my waist and I lean back against Angel's warm chest.

"I was going to let you sleep,' I say quietly.

His voice is soft in my ear, "How could I sleep, when my girls are out here?"

I smile softly and close my eyes, warm, contented, and _safe_.

Life is an uphill battle. You win some, and you lose some. But hopefully, one day, you'll find that what you lost, you were ready to let go of, and what you won, was worth it.


End file.
